It is that dark time of the year again. The Veil, so thin for the last month or so, is gossamer now. And the blessed dead walk among us, checking in, seeing how we are, and if we continue to remember and grieve.

Ghost cats twine around my feet and a gentle spirit dog curls up in her favourite bed again. I can feel my brother peeking over my shoulder at what I’m writing as others make their presence known.

How can one be afraid of the dead? In life they were the beloveds, cherished and adored. Are they any the less for passing over? If we indeed grieve and mourn and love, then how could we ever be afraid?

I welcome my sweet and beloveds who have passed beyond the Veil. I shall light candles for them tonight and burn incense, that they know I do not forget.

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